I have just finished reading this:



And as it turns out, I'm too old to be a scenester.

Fuck.

How am I going to explain my 17yr old antics now???

I turn a ripe old 23 next week. And while my peers are getting steady jobs, buying cars, having weddings and babies (not always in that order), I think I may have missed a memo somewhere as I'm still acting very much the kid I was in school.
Oh God!
I'm turning into the guys from that movie Old School. Right?

Its a double edged sword or a catch 22, depending on how you look at it. Am I being left behind, to spend my life chasing musicians and working crappy jobs all for a dream that is by most accounts unattainable?
Or am I the adventurer sailing into uncharted, albeit, well documented in movies, territory as the terminally single goofball/oddball aunt/friend who even at her decrepid age still throws her bra at the stage (not that I've ever done that, I think.)
Have the strangest feeling am turning into Goldie Horn's character in The Banger Sisters. The eternal groupie...BandAid.

Responsibility, bills, suburbia, domesticity, and other such things have me hitting the brakes and then furiously peddalling backwards. (and yes, I know pedalling is spelt wrong)

Is this normal?

But then again, who wants normal?

I revel in my abnormality. In my twisted relationships, my mediocore job, and my guilty pleasures. They are the things that make me the one person in my group of friends that apparently, according to facebook anyway, everyone likes about me.

I guess I'm just the better version of my 17yr old self.

Fucking A!